The Greatest Opponent
by Princessa.xo
Summary: During the Fischer assignment, the 'Dream Team' soon finds out that there are far worse things than a militarized sub-security team and Cobb's sub-conscious. Hidden pasts are revealed and unforgivable lies have been told. Main: OC, Arthur, Cobb, Mal
1. Mombasa

Hi everyone!

**A/N:** Just to elaborate a bit more: I have come up with some of my own new theories for the brilliant move, Inception. I feel that I should say that this will not be a romance driven story, it's more about the plot. I'm not saying there won't be any, because there will be A LOT, but it so much better when there is an awesome plot behind the story - which I have worked very hard to put together- so please enjoy!

There will be new characters that will be introduced as we go along. But the main contenders are: OC, Arthur, & Cobb. But we will hear a fair amount from the other cast members.

Let me know what you think. Please do not forget to review. Tell me what you like and don't like, or any ideas you might have. Thanks and happy reading.

* * *

Chapter 1: Mombasa

Posted March 3rd, 2011.

Disclaimer: Christopher Nolan owns Inception.

* * *

"You are seeking a chemist?"

He nodded in confirmation.

"To formulate compounds for a job?"

Cobb crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair while he gazed at the smiling man.

"And to come into the field with us."

"No, I rarely go into the field**,** Mr. Cobb."

There was a slight smirk on the man's face. Yusuf the chemist to be exact. He fit the stereo-typical role for a chemist in Cobb's mind. Unkempt hair, slightly disheveled and mismatched clothing, so unlike the attire of designer suits on his side of the pharmacy.

"We'd need you there to tailor compounds to our specific needs."

Yusuf inclined his head slightly downwards**.** "Which are?"

"Great depth."

"Ah, a dream within a dream," Yusuf paused as understanding coloured his facial features, "two levels."

Cobb could now feel the pressure. It seemed that nobody had gone beyond the stage of two levels besides him and his partner Arthur. He already knew how this conversation would end**:** the chemist probably wouldn't want to be attached to a project that seemed as unstable as Cobb was planning. But he could practically feel Saito's burning gaze on his back, so he proceeded. He released his arms from their folds and leaned forward to gaze with intent towards the newly found chemist.

"Three."

Dark eyebrows started to furrow in the negative. Cobb expected the doubt and welcomed it.

"Not possible. That many dreams within a dream is too unstable."

"It is possible. You just have to add a sedative." Cobb didn't fail to notice the glimmer of a challenge within the man's eyes when he finished his statement.

"No," he leaned forward in quiet anticipation, "a powerful sedative."

Cobb's blue eyes stared into the dark brown of Yusuf's and Cobb knew he had the chemist entrapped into the seemingly impossible plan.

* * *

It was as if the ocean itself were in her eyes. He was submerged into the clear blue perfection of her irises. One could not merely describe them as "blue eyes". They were so much more than that.

Pale eyelids descended, as if closing the lids on a rare discovery of sapphires. The rattling of the iron rails began to make her face tremble in fear.

He was the cause of her fear. He knew what was coming and**,** yet**,** he held on to her hands for dear life...

**xXx**

"You know how to find me."

Her fingers were silk against his skin.

Lulling him into the world that was Mal.

Infinitely Mal.

**xXx**

Her blue eyes seared into his memory again like a freshly opened wound. Doe-like eyes stared in a calm fear.

It was so unsettling. Was he really more frightened than her?

The rails continued their rhythmic dance, instilling dread into their very cores. But they were going home, to their _real _home, why was he scared?

**xXx**

The sweet melody of her voice was honey and he was covered in her sweet embrace.

"You know what you have to do."

**xXx**

Cold water dripped down Cobb's face as he stared into a grime-filled mirror. Was it grime? Or was he seeing things...or not seeing things.

He growled inwardly and turned away from the mirror in order to splash more water onto his face. Distant sounds of women's high heels clicked against the floor**,** but he disregarded it.

Cobb made the mistake of closing his eyes and images of Mal and flowing curtains flashed in front of him.

_So real._

He jerked his back up to look into the mirror. Silently repeating to himself.

Silently repeating to himself: _I am not dreaming. Mal is dead._

It would never work. He would need the assurance of something more concrete than the words in his mind. Words he didn't trust since Mal died.

Like a crack fiend looking for a needle, Cobb fished in his pockets until his fingers felt the cool exterior of the steel top. He calmed down a bit as he brought it out and twisted the crown like the possibility of reality in his fingers and let it remind him why he didn't follow his wife to her demise.

The top teetered and then finally gravity claimed it and the toy fell to its side.

"That's an odd choice for a totem."

His quiet spell was broken at the sounds of those words. Cobb spun around and his heart nearly stopped at the figure in front of him.

"Mal?" he murmured.

An alarmed pair of honey-coloured eyes met his gaze and he nearly fell backwards.

"Mal?" he tried again. But the figure just looked as surprised as he felt inside. But the top fell. How was this happening?

"Who are you?" The figure seemed to be stuck between coming towards him and running away. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"It's me, Dom!" His heart was racing uncontrollably and he wanted to take the necessary steps towards his wife, but the effects of the sedative were making him a bit unsteady.

"Why do you look so confused? I'm your husband."

Mouth agape**,** the figure dressed in fitted black clothes took one step towards him**,** but then thought better of it and ran out of the dirty washroom and back into the main room of dreamers.

"Mal..." He had let her get away. The crushing weight of loss started to fill him, bringing him down to his knees.

He grabbed the top from off the sink and let it spin once again...

It was still spinning. His heart deflated. He was still dreaming, he knew it was too good to be true.

And then he heard the definite ring of metal hitting the concrete floor.

Mal was alive.

* * *

Eames squinted in protest against the blistering hot sun. No doubt he would be leaving Kenya with a tan when they left for Paris later in the evening.

Impatience swirled within his depths as he waited upon the rooftop of the _Lotus Hotel_ - only three star, not Eames' taste but Saito was trying to keep inconspicuous - for Cobb to recoup himself from whatever had spooked him downstairs inside the dreamers**'** den. But he could he really blame the poor bloke, the place was a tad creepy with all its inhabitants breathing quietly with wires sticking into their veins. And there had been more than forty of them. It had the eerie effect of taking a stroll in a graveyard at midnight.

He lifted his wrist to check the time on his 18 karat gold and steel mix watch; it was 4:24 PM. His eyes roamed towards the door, but his annoyance flared when it was just Saito coming out whilst on his cell phone**,** speaking Japanese in cutting tones, obviously angry at someone.

Figuring he was in for a long wait he walked over to the patio table where a pitcher of what looked like Tusker – in his opinion the best beer around- and a stack of magazines lay in a neat stack on the glass top. Eames wasn't in the mood to catch up on his current events or the stock market, so when he saw a national gossip magazine with promising photographs of Kenyan beauties, this only strengthened his decision.

Making himself comfortable and pouring himself a mug full of beer**,** he started to flip through the magazine, silently critiquing and praising the many models, socialites and entertainers within the magazine**'**s glossy pages.

Eames couldn't help but chuckle to himself; it was like going through a photographic version of his black book. He had slept with a fair amount of the local beauties: Ajuma Nasenya with dark chocolate skin and feline eyes, Evelyn Muller who had a golden brown complexion and was all legs and**,** finally**,**Maximilienne Kusero**.** She was...he actually didn't know who she was. He considered himself a genius in all things of beautiful females and**,** yet**,** he didn't know this particular one.

He stroked his beard lightly while he read the article concerning the new found socialite.

"Ah, looking for your next conquest." Eames looked behind him to see Saito standing behind him with a knowing smirk on his face.

Eames returned the smile with one of his own, "I could give you a personal tour of Kenya's finest women, although we would have to go to Nairobi for that."

"I will gladly take you upon that as soon as this venture is over." Saito placed his cell phone on the glass top table and took a seat. "Perhaps a celebratory get-together in Nairobi, my treat." He raised his now filled glass of beer up towards Eames. Eames obliged and clinking sounds of glass resonated lightly.

Saito was definitely his kind of man.

He looked back down at the photograph of Maximilienne and then was rudely interrupted.

"I would stay away from that particular one if I were you."

"Excuse me?"

"If you continue reading that article you will soon realize that Maximilienne Kusero is daughter of Emmanuel Kusero."

"Bloody hell! You mean Kusero has spawned?

Saito nodded knowingly.

Eames shuddered in disgust. Emmanuel Kusero was the Kenyan business tycoon who was responsible for the price on Cobb's head**:** a.k.a. Cobol Industries. Kusero was a large intimidating figure with deep complexion of mahogany and piercing black eyes.

How could a man like that have such an angelic looking daughter? Eames looked back at the picture of Kusero's daughter. A slightly angular face with large honey-coloured eyes, a prominent yet elegant nose and luscious pink lips all set in within a tantalizing burnished gold complexion**,** which seemed to glow even on the magazine page.

She was looking beautiful and carefree in the candid photo of her chatting with a Japanese schoolmate while leaving a coffee shop. Both girls were in short tartan skirts and pressed white oxford shirts. He had a sudden urge to fulfill a school girl fantasy.

"How have I never heard of her before? She should have been in magazines a long time ago, especially if she looks like this." Eames gestured to the photograph.

"I know. She is quite popular for her looks in Tokyo as well. She spends a semester of school there every year. And she is quite popular with boys; she even shot down my own son. He did not take that too lightly." Saito chuckled.

Eames couldn't help but join in the laughter. "Why? Not a lady's man like his father?"

"Oh, he is. But, apparently, Kusero has her on a tight leash."

He was about to ask who Kusero's wife was when Cobb finally decided to grace them with his presence.

"Are you feeling alright, ?" Saito looked at Cobb with a doubtful expression.

Cobb nodded, but his eyes were bloodshot and slightly distant. Eames thought this man had serious issues and truly felt sorry for the bloke.

But they all had a job to do and he couldn't start letting emotions get in the way.

He gestured towards his two new temporary colleagues.

"Gentleman, shall we begin?"

* * *

In case you were wondering:

Nairobi - Capital City of Kenya

Ajuma Nasenya & Evelyn Muller - _real _Kenyan models

Tusker - Kenyan Beer

Hope you enjoyed! - TIA for Reviewing :)


	2. Madness Has a Beginning

Hey Everyone!

Thanks for waiting for the second chapter :)

Thanks to all the alerts/favourites/reviews. Greatly appreciated.

Lets get this ball rolling, read the last bit of the previous chapter if you're a bit hazy on it.

Chapter two: Madness has a Beginning

Date Posted : July 17th, 2011.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or Arthur :(

_Sir, Mr. Van Alstine for three thirty is here."_

_A portly man, seated in his cushioned leather chair, spun around to regard his secretary._

_"Send him in."_

_Sunara Otieno, his unnaturally devoted secretary of several years, obliged and then proceeded to exit the opulently decorated office in such a fashion that would make all males stare, leaving the heavy wooden door open in her retreat._

_In walked a man dressed in a grey woollen suit,which was rather inappropriate considering the above-90- degree-weather. He had dirty blonde hair and lightly tanned skin, no doubt from the intense heat._

_The man in the leather chair watched as the grey suited man observed his office, a look of polite distaste illuminating his features. He obviously did not care for the burnished mahogany furniture that filled the rather large office space._

_"You do not care for my office decor?" the man in the chair called out to the man standing in the middle of his office._

_Giving a nervous laugh, the blonde haired man replied, "My apologies Mr. Kusero. I do like the dark wood but I prefer a more..." he eyed the over-sized Persian carpet on the hardwood floor, "a more modern design."_

_"I am a man of tradition, unlike you Americans."_

_The grey suited man laughed, "I am not American." Mr. Kusero raised an eyebrow in question._

_Now it was Mr. Kusero's turn to laugh, "Perfect English. Educated in the States, presumably."_

_"Connecticut, to be exact."_

_"I myself have had the luxury of being educated in Britain, France and of course Kenya." The man gestured outside his window to the great expanse of the view outside of the colourful and exotic city that was Mombasa._

_"Most large and prestigious corporations are situated in Nairobi," The grey suited man commented whilst making his way towards the window Mr. Kusero had gestured towards._

_"You are correct," Mr Kusero stated, clearly impressed, "and I have head offices, globally, including Nairobi. But Mombasa is my personal backyard."_

_The man in the grey suit turned tostare at Mr. Kusero blankly, raising an eyebrow to emphasize his lack of understanding. After letting his words sink in, the man realized whatpersonalbackyard meant and he chuckled knowingly, having his ownpersonalbackyard in Vanadzor. Mr. Kusero joined in with his own hearty guffaw._

_"I understand."_

_"I know you do and now you know why I conduct certain types of businesses in my backyard and not in capital cities."_

_"Such like mine."_

_Mr. Kusero nodded his head in agreement, "Yes, such like yours. Speaking of which, Mr. Van Alstine, please take a seat unless you would prefer to stand. Judging from the thickness of your folder I feel it is safe to assume that this will be a rather time-consuming appointment."_

_"Of course." Mr Van Alstine took his seat opposite of the great man before him. Mr. Van Alstine was tall himself, but it did not equate to the vastness of Mr. Kusero, not obese by any means, just very intimidating and grand._

_"What business do I have with the mastermind behind Van Alstine Corporate?"_

_"Remember, we are in your backyard?" Mr. Van Alstine folded his leg. "This has less to do with my Corporation and more to do with Cobol Industries."_

_Mr. Kusero was currently leaning back in his chair, overtly comfortablein his chair, until he heard his company name brought up, now he sat rigid and on edge. "Excuse me?" His eyes narrowing at the man in front of him._

_Mr. Van Alstine wore an impassive expression as if dealing with a small child. "I mean you no harm Mr. Kusero, but I can only warrant that on my behalf."_

_"Explain yourself!" the great man barked._

_Taking a struggled breath before expertly opening his folder upon the polished desk in front of him, Mr. Van Alstine was the perfect picture of calm, cool and collected._

_Growing impatient while the Dutchman in front of him took out countless papers with graphs and charts printed upon them. "What is all of this?"_

_Mr. Van Alstine ignored the intimidating man's rude tones and shoved three particular papers in front of him._

_", what do you know about Extraction?"_

_Raising his eyebrows in mock disbelief he said," Mr. Van Alstine, do you believe you are the first to offer me services in sub-security against extractors?" He adjusted himself in his chair to full height. "How dare you assume that I, Emmanuel Kusero, would not be informed against the latest techniques in business espionage?"_

_The corners of the blonde man's mouth lifted slightly, shaking his as if he was being amused by a small child, "Forgive me, for my assumption." He received a severe grunt as a response and then continued, "Since you are so well informed about extraction and sub-security, you must already have one of your own."_

_"Of course. My sub-security team is second to none."_

_Mr. Van Alstine let out a chuckle. "That is not what I meant."_

_"What exactly do you mean then? Get to the point; you are beginning to wear down my patience." A cracking noise emitted from the large man's knuckles, Kusero was cracking his knuckles which Mr. Van Alstine had heard was not a good sign to one's life._

_But Van Alstine kept his composure as always. "Mr. Kusero, what do you know about mind assassins?"_

_Mr. Kusero's hands went limp._

It was high noon and, as evidence, the sun shone brightly through the musty windows near the ceiling of the warehouse which Arthur had make-shifted into a workshop.

He couldn't say for sure what the previous use for the warehouse he currently inhabited was for. It was filthy, for one, and had seemed to be abandoned for what seemed a very long time. Nevertheless, he couldn't complain, the dusty space contained almost every tool, machinery, and work-space needed for a carpenter or handyman. It saved Arthur the trouble of going out to purchase many of the needed materials and tools they would need for this assignment. Efficiency was key and anywhere he could save time, the better. Bette rto be ahead of schedule than behind.

Arthur's attention was brought back to the whirring machine in front of him. It was recommended that routine diagnostics be run on the PASIV every six to eight weeks, Arthur ran tests every single week.

Being the point man called for perfection and he was not unaware of his high reputation. He didn't revel in it; he just did what he had to do to in order to maintain it for his own personal ethic.

If only his father could see him now. Arthur shook his head. No, he never wanted his father to come within on hundred feet of him or anyone else he knew.

Black liquid seeped slowly onto his notebook, he looked saw the broken ball point of his pen. How many pens had met early graves due to thoughts of his father?

Without a thought he tossed the useless pen into the trash underneath his expansive black glass and chrome desk. The sleek and expensive desk stood out like a sore thumb with the rest of the shoddy furniture in the warehouse.

His father, as much as a cliché as this sounded, was the true bane of his existence. As much as Arthur would love to be the true opposite of his father, he couldn't help but be his true self, which in itself was not necessarily a bad thing. His father was not an altogether evil person. If he was, it would be that much easier to write him off. But the fact that his father was an amicable man was what made Arthur hate him beyond reason.

In his opinion, it was easier to exact revenge on someone who was not fully evil than someone who was an overall 'good' and ambitious man, but who accomplished goals in devious ways.

The fact that Arthur's father dawdled in between the lines of bad and good made Arthur hate him more than any psychopath, murderer or terrorist. And if he ever crossed paths with his father, the very controlled persona would dissipate into the environment.

Arthur could feel his insides starting to flame and felt the white hot anger creeping up into his veins. Normally, this would make people quiver or shake, but his hands became even more precise than before. The words on his note paper becoming more severe and pointed.

His father, the man who fully sponsored an organization who reigned supreme over World Vision in helping the youth of third world countries. This was the same man who privately funded the Mexican Cartel in exchange for illegal substances to fund his business.

His father, who donated 11 million from his personal fortune towards the Haiti relief funds was the same man who hired under age prostitutes on his business trips to Pakistan, Liberia, and Guatemala.

His father, who dressed up like Old Saint Nick every December and made surprise appearances to a number of orphanages around the world and spoiled the children rotten with a lavish Christmas dinner and equally lavish gifts, was the exact same man who seduced his mother and then turned around and raped her repeatedly until she almost died.

This man was his father. And this was not why Arthur hated him most. His mother...She lived so far away from the main population, cast away like an old newspaper because of what his father did to her. He could not even bear to rethink the story that had been revealed to him in college.

The word hate was a mere understatement. But he refused to think about this, he would keep this buried within him. Locked deep within his heart until the right moment struck, and he would unleash the sinful fury within him and lose all his precious control.

Blue ink suddenly splattered all over his notebook and stained his pale palms. Another pen destroyed. He sighed and saw that he was out of pens. Great, another trip to the supply store.

There was slight shuffling sound behind him and quiet cough. Cobb was right. The girl had come.

Arthur turned around to greet the petite brunette with perfect doll like features in front of him. "Cobb said you'd be back."

"I tried not to come." She emitted a small smile. Arthur allowed himself to mimic her. His previous rage never forgotten, but subdued somewhat.

"But there's nothing quite like it," he stated, his eyes boring into hers. This was reminiscent of his first encounter with Cobb. It was a monumental event that would never cease to amaze him. Giving into the creation.

She stared at him knowingly. "It's...pure creation."

Arthur nodded in agreement. She had the want worse than anyone else he had encountered. Architects always had it worse. The creation process was similar to a cocaine addict if they were not trained properly.

"Shall we take a look at some paradoxical structures?"

Ariadne's eyes gleamed. Yes, she had it very bad.

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW - if you want your chapters faster ;)

Oh and some education for today :

Vanzador - Armenian Capital if I am not mistaked ( or at least the 13th province of Armenia)


	3. And so it Begins

A/N: I apologize for the long wait. This chapter has not been edited by my beta so I apologize in advance for any grammatical/spelling errors.

If anyone is interested in being a beta, please let me know and message me :)

Now we are getting down to the nitty gritty. The DRAMA can start.

You should all listen to Butterfly Boucher - Gun for a Tongue : It's kind of Maxine's theme song. She is troubled girl with ISSUES. But we love em that way, don't we?

Disclaimer: I do not own Arthur, Cobb, or Eames :( and the rest, yada yada yada...

* * *

Maxine Kusero was looking at a worn photograph of a Caucasian male with dark blonde hair and small yet piercing blue eyes. He was slightly weathered, but was still achingly handsome.

The bastard.

"This is him?"

"Yes, Dominic Cobb."

"He doesn't look like a killer."

"They never do," her father waved his hand dismissively.

"Are you sure Father?"

She received a vicious glare in return, "Maximilliene, are you calling me a liar?" his voice came out in such a deathly whisper that would have made her heart drop five years ago.

She kept silent. She knew her father, it was best not to answer back, and her silence clearly stated her answer.

Maxine twirled her diamond clustered ruby ring around her finger whilst keeping eye contact with her Father. This is how Sensei taught her.

_Keep eye contact with your subject of fear until the very image of it loses meaning_

Remembering this as one of her first lessons many years ago, strengthened her now.

She stared at her father until he became just another meaningless business mogul in an Armani suit and silk tie.

Besides, his anger was not directed towards her, it was towards _him._

Dominic Cobb.

She wanted to ask so many questions. Actually, just one, why? Why would anyone kill someone they claimed to love?

Claim being the key word, as she was not sure what love truly was amongst non-family members.

The phone started to ring and her Father picked it up and gave her a knowing look. Maxine sighed; this was going to take a while. She took the time to take in her unfamiliar setting. Her father's office.

She had never been permitted to enter the city of Mombasa before, much less into her Fathers office. But by the age of fifteen she found a way around her father's security team and came to Mombasa for reasons he would never dream of knowing about.

She would be severely punished if he ever found out how she was spending her time in the gutters of this crime ridden city.

Maxine looked around the office. From what she had noticed the one time she had seen the office over ten years ago was that the furniture was the same furniture was used in the office. The old fashioned glossed wood, with intricate carvings still served for furniture.

Another thing that hadn't seemed to change was the secretary's affections for her Father.

Sunara seemed to think she was keeping it a secret, even when her Mother was around. But Sunara always seemed to be outfitted in extremely body hugging pencil skirts and low cut blouses that showed off her perky cleavage. Despite the sexy clothes, glowing deep brown complexion and high cheekbones, she could never stand a candle to her Mother. Her mother was beauty personified into a mere human being.

She wasn't biased it, was the truth.

And plus, the heifer always seemed to sporting the newest pumps by either Chanel or Louboutins that Maxine had recently worn, obviously using her feminine wiles on her Father to gain the designer goods.

Maxine closed her eyes as her Mother's face flashed through her mind. French lullabies and annual visits were all she remembered growing up until her Mother departed.

And now her Mother would never come back because... she wished so desperately that she could cry, but Maxine knew the tears would not come. She was done crying a long time ago and there was only one thing to do now.

Her Father was off the phone now and he turned his head to stare right at her. She remained quiet, awaiting instruction.

"That was Moussa."

Maxine gripped the arm of the chair...She of course heard about Moussa through numerous encounters of eavesdropping. How else was she to run her Father's company if she didn't inform herself of his cohorts.

"He has been informed of Cobb's whereabouts thanks to your information."

Maxine drummed her fingers on her father's desk. She already had her "story" ready for when her father asked her why she was in Mombasa in the first place. She was supposed to be in Osaka attending University. Whenever she ran away to Mombasa she had to make sure she wasn't being trailed – which meant travelling coach with KLM - Granted this part of town she visited was very sketchy, but the sketchiest neighbourhoods had the most eyes.

"I will not ask why you are in Mombasa. In fact, it is fortunate you were here today; if not then we wouldn't have found Cobb's whereabouts."

Relief flooded through Maxine's body. Her lie was foolproof, but her Father being who he was would have found the tiniest crack in her web of deception.

"So what happens now?" She dared to ask after being let off the hook.

Her Father lifted a glass to take a sip. Alcohol in the middle of the day, Maxine glanced at the clock, it was 4 o clock. Just like clockwork, her Father.

"We find him and kill him."

Maxine's eyes widened at the bluntness in his answer, "Why?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean don't you want to question him first, ask him why he did it before flat out killing him!"

The AC was on but Maxine could feel her insides heating up. A deep seeded anger was starting to swell within her; she gripped the sides of the wooden chair.

"Are you sympathetic of this man, Maximilliene?" her father roared.

He stood up to his full height and threw his glass to the floor; the heavy scent of vintage brandy filled the air. Maxine scrunched up her nose to the vile smell.

"Never Father! I would have killed him on the spot if I knew it was him, but I would like to know why first, else it will haunt me forever," she pounded a fist on her Father's desk. He glared at her hand and she looked away from him. She imagined the blonde man's face and started a half crazed whisper.

"Father, I have nothing but a nauseating disgust for this man. I want to cut him from limb to limb, making his toes curl before I proceed to cut them off. I want to make him bleed Father. I want to make Dominic Cobb suffer the longest and most painful death known to mankind. And I don't care if it doesn't make me feel better afterwards, I will feel wretched regardless."

Maxine came out of her crazed stupor as she heard her father sit back down in his cushioned chair.

"My Maximilliene, I have never known you to be this passionate. Sensei Hiro has done quite a number on you."

She felt quite exposed, but this did not eliminate the anger. She wanted to kill this man, with all her heart and soul, and she felt so nauseated for not doing it when he was just inches from her grasp. But she hadn't known it was him. And now her Father's henchman would have the utmost pleasure in just releasing a multitude of bullets at this man and killing him without answering her questions or without his more than deserved torturing.

"Yes he has. He has taught me so many things. But has warned me not to use them for personal use. Only as a self knowledge." She spat out the words. She treasured them before, but now they seemed like garbage.

What was the point studying under one of the world's greatest fighters and assassins if she couldn't use any of it when it really mattered?

"Hmm. What a waste." Her Father was eyeing her carefully.

Maxine looked up at him in question.

"For you to have all that skill, and nowhere to use it. Some of his skills are even illegal I hear, and yet you can't use any of them."

"I agree." She nodded, clearly frustrated. "Father?"

"Yes."

Maxine's neck snapped upwards her expression deadpanned.

"Yes you may go kill Cobb."

"How did you know?"

"Just because I visit you only once a month doesn't mean I don't know you. You are my daughter."

Maxine tucked a bone straight lock of hair behind her ear.

"You must leave now. Go to the estate, I will notify the staff to pack your things and have your documents in order. I would have you fly in the jet but that would draw you too much attention."

"Of course." She couldn't believe this was happening.

"I will have car pick you up in 2 hours with a flight to wherever Cobb is headed, Moussa will accompany you," her Father put his hand up," don't even dare to rebuttal. He will not tail you, he is just there to give you the information you need and to clean up any messes and of course have your back."

"Fine." She said with fake annoyance. She didn't care if Sunara came at this point, just as long as she got to interrogate and kill Cobb.

"Now go. The driver is here."

Maxine obliged and picked up her black Birkin handbag and walked around her father's desk to kiss him goodbye. "I won't disappoint you."

"I know you won't. Or don't bother coming back."

Her Father's words stunned her momentarily. But she let her eyes glaze over. If she wanted to eventually be half the man her Father was, she would have to toughen up and learn the consequences.

No more University, no more coffee with Miyu and Masako on campus, no more shopping in spare time, no more waiting for two more years of college to pass her by.

The most important thing she had learned in Japan was the art of the deadly assassin. She had finished her training only a few years ago, but had a built a lifetime of skills that were ingrained in her body forever.

The time was now. She wanted to do this and she wanted to prove to her Father she could get this done.

She closed the doorway to her father's office passing Sunara's desk.

"Back to Japan Miss Kusero?"

Maxine stopped dead in her tracks and pivoted and turned to face the money hungry bitch.

"No. I'm off to do work for my Father."

"Well good luck Miss Kusero, and those shoes are quite lovely," Sunara smiled.

"Listen; Sunara," Maxine was about to say something scathingly rude, but she stopped and licked her lips while a wide grin graced her face. "Thank-you. I'll pick you up a pair while I'm stateside."

A greedy smile laced her features, but she hid well with a look of sweet surprise.

"Oh, you are just too kind Miss Kusero, I'm a size seven" she lowered one eyelid that had too much mascara in an annoying wink.

Maxine would be sure to get a size five.

She turned around and marched off towards the elevator. Her Velvet Brian Atwood pumps making deathly sounds against the shiny marble as she dreamt of the many ways to torture Sunara after she was done killing Dominic Cobb.

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*BEEEEEP*


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